Thy Son Liveth: Messages from a Soldier to His Mother (Google eBook)

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Little, Brown,, 1919 - Future life - 84 pages
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Page 16 - Our command has crossed : Let's go." I thought he meant the river, and followed him under the crossfire barrage the Tommies made, up to a hillside that I had not noticed before : a clean spot not blackened by the guns. Lots of fellows I knew were there, and strange troops. But they looked queer : I glanced down at myself. I was olive drab all right.
Page 19 - I do not know what subconsciousness is. What stuff it is made of. Whence it comes or whither it goes. Maybe it is the bridge, the link between the mortal and immortal part of man." I do not understand why a spirit should be ashamed of being what he is. This one tells his mother, " if you can get it firmly fixed in your mind that I am I, not what is vulgarly called a ghost but a being just as much as I ever was, we can start something worth while
Page 50 - The march was well under way when there was an order to "right about face" and we started back. Jack Wells was marching with the Man in command, I have not yet learned his name or what to call him, when he turned around and said he had orders to return. How he got the orders puzzled me. There were no messengers or mechanical means like telephones or wireless. But it seems we acquire the ability to hear anything addressed to us, personally, through any amount of space. That is how you reach...
Page v - I am convinced that the simply presented letters of the soldier killed in Flanders contain comfort for all who now mourn or must mourn in the future. I should like to see these letters given a wide circulation through the medium of an inexpensive book-' " Convinced of the sincerity of the author, and realizing that these messages from an American soldier were no ordinary spirit communications the publishers asked for further information. The author replied : " ' I ask you to regard the book as truth,...
Page 28 - I don't mean to call it that. But you know what is in my mind. If you could hear the cries that come to us from mothers and fathers and wives and orphans, you would know how continuously I plan and mull over this proposition. If you could just make them understand that there is no death. If you could just make them know that they can call their own loved ones to them and hear, at first hand, that all is well beyond what has truly been called "the veil.
Page 11 - I have no explanations or proofs other than those that are given here : A man who was killed in battle and is yet alive, and able to communicate with the one closest to him in sympathy, must make his own arguments. I have no knowledge of established psychic laws or limitations. But I know what I know.
Page 52 - In this intermediate place which is neither wholly material nor wholly spiritual, we are busy and so happy, or would be if it were not for the sobs and tears of our folks. Please do not give way to sadness, mother. And for heaven's sake (this is literally for heaven's sake) beg the mourners to stop crying, and to cease wearing black clothes.
Page 27 - I told you that we are not given any power over bullets. That we can comfort but not save from what you call death. That is not quite the case, I find. Jack Wells directed me to stand by a junior lieutenant to-day and impel him this way or that to avoid danger. In this way I discovered that my perceptions are much more sensitive than they were before I came out. I can estimate the speed and determine the course of shells. I stood by this fellow and nudged him here and there, kept him from being hurt.
Page 49 - We passed' through several villages, one of which I had seen on the way to the line. It had been shelled and destroyed. There were human bodies everywhere. They looked like, and were, no more than so many abandoned shells or coverings. From this point of view there is no more in death than removal from one house to another.
Page 11 - Mother, be game. I am alive and loving you. But my body is with thousands of other mothers' boys near Lens. Get this fact to others if you can. It's awful for us when you grieve, and we can't get in touch with you to tell you we are all right. This is a clumsy way. I'll figure out something easier. I'm confused yet. Bob.

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